


Isn't It Sweet?

by hopedespite



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Coffee, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Identity Reveal, Marichat, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, coffee shop sort of but not AU, these babs are just a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopedespite/pseuds/hopedespite
Summary: When Chat Noir starts frequenting the Dupain-Cheng Bakery to see Marinette on her Sunday morning barista shifts, she sees no harm in teasing him by writing silly order names on his cup every week. Until one day she writes the wrong one.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 41
Kudos: 225





	Isn't It Sweet?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @cherrybomb_marichat and @Purpleflower04 for beta reading!

Marinette wouldn’t have guessed that Chat Noir was a “hot mocha with two extra pumps of mocha” kind of guy, but she figured she shouldn’t be _that_ surprised. After all, this guy was pretty syrupy in more ways than one in her life.

And ever since her parent’s bakery began offering various coffee and tea beverages — and ever since Chat Noir had caught wind that Marinette was now working a Sunday morning barista shift — he had become a regular customer.

And a regular nuisance, as it was.

The first time Chat Noir stepped inside, he was looking _utterly ridiculous,_ to put it in Chloe’s terms.

As if being clad head-to-toe in leather (with cat ears to boot) wasn’t enough, he had zipped up an obnoxious Ladybug-themed hoodie, baggy jeans, and a surprisingly expensive designer scarf. Wide-rimmed sunglasses balanced over the bridge of his nose, only accentuating the shadows his mask cast over his face.

Marinette wasn’t really sure if he was trying to avoid attention or just attract more.

“How can I… help you?” she asked skeptically as the boy sauntered up to the counter.

“A hot mocha with two extra pumps of mocha, please,” he purred, sliding cash forward on the counter.

Marinette just stared him down momentarily before grabbing a cup and a sharpie. “Name for your order?”

“Oh, come on, Marinette, you know my name.”

Without looking back up, she wordlessly scribbled onto the cup’s side before moving toward the espresso machine.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be out chasing your own tail down alleyways or something?” Marinette teased him over her shoulder as she began frothing hot milk.

“Well, even a stray needs his _cat-ffeine_ fix sometimes,” Chat shot back with a grin and what Marinette assumed might have been a wink — though it was impossible to tell beneath the shades, mask, and raised hoodie. Talk about overkill.

“Right.” She slid the cup and a cardboard sleeve back across the counter, shaking her head with a small laugh. “Extra milk, sugar, and stirrers are over on the countertop to your right. Oh, and don’t let your tail get caught in the door on the way out.”

“Got it, thanks, Marinette. Have a _purrfectly_ beautiful Sunday!”

As Chat Noir waved and turned to exit the shop, he took a swig of the warm beverage, savoring the thick coating of chocolate on his tongue as he stepped back out into the brisk Parisian air.

But before he turned the corner, he looked down to inspect the writing on his cup. And there, in black sharpie, was his order name: “Chat Bizarre.”

______________________

The inclusion of incorrect order names seemed to become part of their newfound Sunday ritual, simply for the fact that Marinette realized the little joke never failed to make Chat smile. Plus, when would she ever pass up the opportunity to tease her kitty, in or out of the mask?

Every week he returned for his regular order — as well as to flirt and solicit Marinette for another free pastry sample — and every week she giggled whilst writing a different name for his order, despite the fact that she continued to ask for his name and he continued to respond with “Chat Noir.”

Of course, after nearly two months of regular visits, Marinette took no shame in the fact that she would sometimes head online to look up words that rhymed with “noir,” just to continue coming up with goofy names for the week — the likes of which were becoming increasingly outlandish.

“Chat-In-Car”

“Meow Gone Far”

“Kitten Memoir”

“Can’t Open A Jar”

“Not A Superstar”

“Au Revoir”

Then, once she ran out of words that rhymed, she decided to move on to celebrity names.

There was no real intention or plan behind the move; one day Marinette just figured… why not change up the game? Keep him on his toes and keep the joke fresh? After all, she thought, it’s not as though she’d ever actually come close to Chat Noir’s real name, so what was the harm… right?

And so that next week, she uncapped her sharpie with a flourish and wrote the first celebrity name that came to mind in her neat, looping handwriting: “Adrien Agreste.”

At first, Chat Noir didn’t even notice. He simply continued his usual banter with his favorite classmate-turned-barista, poking around to look at the cheese danishes for Plagg and perhaps a chocolate croissant for himself later. The bakery was empty save for the two of them, so he didn’t mind loitering a little longer than usual.

But once he straightened back up from browsing the shelves, took a signature swig, and eyed the side of the cup for the first time, he came dangerously close to spewing his Hot-Mocha-With-Two Extra-Pumps-Of-Mocha back onto the girl who had just brewed it for him.

Instead, in an effort to keep the liquid _inside_ of his mouth, he accidentally inhaled some, causing him to choke and splutter and bang a flat palm to his chest all while trying to figure out how to diffuse the sudden identity crisis that Marinette had also unwittingly brewed.

In his coughing fit, the cup fell to the floor, its contents seeping out onto the cool tile.

Marinette, meanwhile, jerked back toward him with wide, concerned eyes before rushing around the counter to firmly pat his back and urge him to breathe.

“Chat Noir, are you okay?” For all her snarky remarks and jests, she definitely didn’t want her partner dying on the bakery floor. How could she ever explain that he’d been bested by coffee — _her_ coffee, no less — as opposed to one of Hawkmoth’s akumas? “Can you breathe better, now? Do you need wa—”

“You can’t tell anyone, Marinette, please!”

Now it was Chat Noir who swung around to look at her with wide, concerned eyes.

“Tell… tell anyone, what?”

Chat’s hands were braced on his knees as he recovered, his face alight with urgency. “That I’m Adrien Agreste!” he hissed under his breath, albeit not angrily. “I don’t know how you found out, but you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Ladybug, she will _kill_ me if she finds out my identity got revealed!”

Marinette just stood there dumbfounded before leaning in to scrutinize his eyes and attempt to discern whether or not he was engaging in a new prank or joke of his own. But then her gaze traveled down to the abandoned cup on the ground. To her handwriting. And then back to the way Chat’s hands were now fretfully mussing his blonde hair.

The gears turned in Marinette’s head, her jaw agape as she processed that first sentence, replaying it several times over in her head to be certain.

That I’m Adrien Agreste.

That _I’m_ Adrien Agreste.

_That I’m Adrien Agreste._

Oh. Oh _no_.

“You’re… no, you can’t be.” Marinette took a startled step back, Chat watching warily as her face flushed and her voice pitched higher in shock. “You _can’t_ be him. You’re—you’re Adrien?”

Now both of her hands were cradling her cheeks in horror, her eyes cast down to the floor. She began to mutter indiscernibly to herself while shaking her head. 

“Wait, you didn’t know it was me?” One of Chat’s hands flew out to gesture toward the fresh mocha puddle, a new wave of anxiety washing over him as he realized just how hard a left turn this Sunday had taken. “Th-then why did you write ‘Adrien Agreste’ on the cup?”

“Because it was just a joke, Chaton!” Marinette yelled back. But the moment the words left her mouth, she knew she had made another error; she clasped one hand over her mouth, the other still on one cheek.

Chat Noir froze. “ _Chaton_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://writtenbyrain.tumblr.com/).


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